


Someone's waiting for you

by Bookhearted_Baggins



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bilbo can sing, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Singing, Sweetness, Thorin has the goldsickness, bit of grief, but - Freeform, gay love can pierce the veil and save the day, just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookhearted_Baggins/pseuds/Bookhearted_Baggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bilbo has a hidden talent that Thorin stumbles upon by accident, inadvertently saving the entire company.</p><p>Or: Bilbo can sing, and it enchants Thorin more than the gold did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone's waiting for you

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Someone's Waiting for You by Lea Salonga I believe, featured in The Rescuers.
> 
> No beta, any and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy lovelies ;) listen to the song, it's so sweet <3

A 

harsh wind, chilled and unforgiving whipped past him, freezing the tips of his ears and noise, surely giving his cheeks a rosy tint. Bilbo sighed, shivered, and opened his eyes; the landscape around Erebor was miserable as the weather. Far away, Laketown's few lights twinkled against the watery blue of the sky, the moon reflecting upon the waves. Bilbo's stomach churned at the memory of the dragon lifting off and diving straight for the soggy settlement of menfolk, of the town being lit not with merry sparkling lanterns, but with the fierce, angry burn of dragon fire. Nothing remained of Dale, no man or dwarf to linger in its ruin, but then again, nothing had in a long time, and had it not been for the waning moon, Bilbo wouldn't have seen its faint outline at all.

 

Bilbo's feet, though covered in freshly-combed hair and thick skin, were freezing against the stone balcony from where he watched the little chunk of the world. He clutched further at the ragged fur coat, wrapping it as much around him as he could. It was so cold out, so very cold; he remembered easily the snowfall that had drifted steadily during their arrival at Laketown. In the Shire, he recounted only somewhat bitterly, it would be a bit more temperate yet; maybe the winds would begin to chill, maybe the leaves begin to brown.

 

  
_'Now, Bilbo,'_ he scolded himself, shaking away the thoughts of the Shire. _'Now is no time to be reminiscing. You still have a bit of your adventure left to go,'_ at that, he cringed, if only a little. Adventure, indeed. More like a mad scramble for an admittedly pretty, yet rather useless stone, the reason he dared the wicked outside of the mountain. One could only take a bunch of gold-mad dwarves for so long.

 

And if he maybe called himself a liar, clutching perhaps the maddest dwarf's cloak to him more and relishing in the internal flutter of warmth, well, then that was nobody's business, nobody's at all.

 

But yes, the dwarves were mad; obsessed with the gold and gems and shiny things, trinkets really, spaced away from the world around them in favor of precious metals and twinkly odds and ends. It made Bilbo's heart ache, in more ways than one, to see his friends and companions reduced to money-grubbing loons. Why, back in Hobbiton, it would have all been settled swiftly and soundly, the gold split up and sent away, for so much of it would be ridiculously ostentatious, the matter pushed aside in favor of a celebratory meal of the finest proportions. None of this madness business, none indeed, as hobbits had little use for gold and gems and other such items.

 

Bilbo sighed once more, allowing the cold air to shock his lungs. It was getting late, and he was getting emotional, homesick, thinking of the Shire, as he had many times before over the course of the journey. But it was more than homesickness, Bilbo knew as he rubbed his sternum; it was heartsickness as well.

 

Now, while dwarrow, especially those of the line of Durin, are very susceptible to gold- or dragon-sickness, hobbits, on the other hand, are vulnerable to ailments of the heart, as they are a very emotionally propelled people, those of the Took clan most specially, as they tended to think with their hearts rather than their minds. In Bilbo's case it was most very bad, bad indeed; Hobbits, though not immortal, are typically sensible, and often die of natural causes. The death of Bilbo's parents, however, stemming from Bungo's death in the Fell Winter and leading to Belladonna's passing of heartsickness, was swift and horridly unexpected, especially for one as young as Bilbo had been, barely past his majority.

 

  
_'Already I have been plagued for so long by heart's grief, and now I suffer once more, from a crazed dwarf King of all things,'_ Bilbo's mind cried out, and he leaned back against a pillar to keep himself upright. A memory unbidden fluttered from the depths of his mind, of days filled with similar grief.

 

_'Now, Bilbo,' Belladonna scolded gently from her bed, 'this is hard for you, I know, I know,' she seemed to mumble more to herself than him, her weakened fingers trembling against his. 'You must be brave, braver than ever before. If you are to face the world on your own now, you must call upon that Tookish strength and courage. We Tooks have always endured, and now you must as well.'_

_'But mother, I don't want to! I can't, won't, not without you!' Bilbo cried, clinging to her, ignoring the tears falling freely down his face. 'I'll be alone, don't leave me alone!'_

 

_'Bilbo!' she'd hissed, her eyes ablaze, 'there is so much more to the world than just a house and your parents!'_

_'I know,' he'd whimpered, ' but I never thought I wouldn't come back to you after all of it!'_

 

_Her eyes were tired and sorrowful. 'I know, my dear boy, my Bilbo,' she pulled him into a hug, sighing heavily. 'I know. And were it my choice, I'd never have to make you experience that. But all this will come to pass, and one day, you may find yourself on your very own adventure, and you will find someone to love, and you will learn to live in that new day instead of dwelling on those past.'_

 

_'I don't know how I could ever make it to that day without you,' he sniffles, pulling back to stare sadly into her eyes. Her lips pulled up into a smile, a fierce one, and pride echoed through her weak frame._

 

_'You will, oh I know you will. You are a Took, courageous and strong, and a Baggins, stubborn and sensible. But more than that, you are my son and I have faith in you. But if there are ever days where you doubt yourself, then listen now my dear child, and I will tell you what you need.'_

 

Bilbo closed his eyes once more, the wind seeming harsh no longer as he pulled it into his lungs deeply and soundly. His steps guided him further onto the balcony, hair tousled like by his mother's loving touch.

 

"Be brave, little one. Make a wish for each sad little tear..." Belladonna had had, as most Tooks did, a very beautiful singing voice, the perfect tenor for lullabies and quiet hymns and humming. Bilbo sang with a quiet, rusty reverence; his voice, though he had never much been one for putting on a show, was something he was undoubtedly proud of, as it reminded him of his mother. It had been a while since he'd last sung anything though, only having done it on occasion. Many a bad day had this song been his saving grace.

 

"Hold your head up though no one is near,

Someone's waiting for you.

Don't cry little one,

There'll be a smile where a frown used to be.

You're part of the love that you see,

Someone's waiting for you..."

Bilbo's feet had drifted, light steps evolving into a simple step-and-sway. He spun once, imagining the accompaniments that his mother's song would sound so beautiful with.

 

"Always keep a little prayer in your pocket,

and you're sure to see the light.

Soon there'll be joy and happiness,

and your little world will be bright..." Bilbo sighed, pausing to lift himself by his palms, looking out over the peaceful night. Forgetting the destruction and madness, if only for a moment. He pushed away from the railing, stepping deftly between the pillars, weaving in and out of the dark.

 

"Have faith, little one,

'Til your hopes and your wishes come true.

You must try to be brave, little one,

Someone's waiting....

to... love... you..." Bilbo sighed deeply, his arm wrapped around the pillar he was leaning heavily on, staring sadly up at the sky. If only his mother could be with him now... she'd know exactly what he'd need to cheer him up, maybe even a solution to his unrequited beloved's madness... and she'd have definitely scolded him, told him to buck up and confront Thorin.

 

But dwelling upon maybe's and what-ifs would get him nowhere, and most definitely would not lull him to sleep, and so he slowly wandered away from the balcony to find his way back to his bedroll to settle down for the night. Hopefully.

 

 

After Bilbo had gone, a shuffling could be heard from the shadows, and none other than Thorin Oakenshield stepped put from behind a far pillar. For a moment, he gazed around, before relaxing. He stepped forward cautiously, placing his hands tenderly where Bilbo's had been on the stone rail. He gazed at the same view the hobbit had. He didn't know how his burglar saw things, but he could try, maybe...

 

Unbeknownst to Thorin, Bilbo had shifted something inside of him, set him right in the best way.

 

He turned back to go inside, maybe talk to Bilbo before he lay himself down that night, but felt the urge to check the treasure room one last time, and so he took a detour.

 

When he walked inside, he gave a small grin at the glimmering treasure horde ( _it's your right,_ it whispered to him, _you have the only right_ ), running his fingers through a nearby pile. But then, he thought of Bilbo, his ruddy golden hair glimmering in the moonlight, voice like woven wonder... Thorin took a deep breath, and the world shifted. The gold was cold against his palm, when all his fingers longed to run through was Bilbo's hair now. It was all shiny yes, but not nearly as pretty as Bilbo's hair, or his eyes, or his thin pink lips, his deft thin fingers and the way he stuck his thumbs into his bracers... the trinkets were suddenly reduced to nothing in comparison, and Thorin felt his heart swelling, too much in love with Bilbo for the gold to find any purchase in him. With this pleasantly tingling feeling lingering in him, Thorin turned away from the gold, his mind cast away thoughts of the Arkenstone, and he went to search for his love amongst more pleasant company than the emotionless gold.


End file.
